


Goddess' Light

by thelionheartqueen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Discussion of Past Suicidal Thoughts, F/M, First Time, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Smut, minor AU Berkut/Rinea, no beta we die like Glenn, slight emotional whiplash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelionheartqueen/pseuds/thelionheartqueen
Summary: It had happened again.She had dreamt of her parents and their deaths.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Goddess' Light

Marianne woke up in a panic, sweat dripping down her body. Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to calm herself down. Her hands were cold and clammy on her face, and she could feel tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. After a few minutes of resigned sniffling, she got out of bed and walked to the windows, opening the plush velvet curtains to let in the light of the early rising sun. 

It had happened again.

She had dreamt of her parents and their deaths. Taking a shuddering breath, she tried to block out the pain gathering in her heart by focusing on everything she needed to attend to today. Ever since she had become Ashe’s household manager at Castle Gaspard, she always had a long list of things to accomplish. Throwing herself into work had been a very distracting way to cope with the end of the war and try to move on to doing productive things for the people of Fodlan, even if she could only directly impact a few.

Ashe never asked much of her, but she set out to restore his territory to the best of her ability, using the skills she had learned in Edmund from her adoptive father in managing a home. She made a name for herself when she had first arrived last autumn, making agricultural yield calculations and offering husbandry advice for the livestock, advising in trade, and balancing the budgets. Ashe had looked at her like she’d rescued him from drowning, and it was that wonder and appreciation in his face that drove her. Unlike her, he hadn’t spent much time learning about this from his adoptive father.

His siblings, Flint and Briar, were wonderful as well. They jokingly referred to her as the lady of the house, and the servants oft agreed. It always made her blush to hear it, though. Being the lady of the house had certain implications...ones that had not been properly confronted yet, by her or the lord of the domain himself.

Briar especially loved to tease him about it, however, she knew because she had overheard it once or twice. And Marianne certainly wasn’t unaware of the ardent affection in the way he looked at her. She knew her own heart fluttered excitedly in his presence, and she looked forward to meeting with him everyday. Some of her favorite times were when they would sit quietly in the study, attending to their own paperwork late into the evening, before having a quiet dinner together. It was so tranquil and solitary, they simply basked in each other’s presence.

Marianne didn’t expect any of that today, sadly. There were preparations for a festival in the village, one of the first in years. Traditionally, the Blue Sea Moon saw the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth. However, the new Archbishop had changed some of the teachings, and had suggested renaming the occasion the Goddess’ Light festival and encouraging the common folk to participate in celebrating the time when the presence of the Goddess blessed Fodlan. The Goddess did not need to be reborn, the Archbishop had explained, as She watched from above. Marianne and Ashe also understood, however, that since their former professor had received the power of the Goddess, she did not feel genuine in encouraging people to believe the Goddess may return one day.

The common folk were quite excited to have a celebration. Years of war in Faerghus had made people jaded and tired, and there had been much to process. The coronation of King Dimitri and his wedding to the Goddess-blessed new Archbishop had done much to lift their spirits, as had the pair’s dedication to easing the plight of those who suffered the most under the strain of the war and squabbles of nobility. There was still much work to be done, though, and for the people of Gaspard, that was where Marianne came in. Ashe cared much for the people himself, but also was a knight at heart, often going on missions for the King to resolve mysteries of the past.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she saw Ashe riding across the grounds, covered in dusty armor and looking a bit tired. He had set off late in the evening at the call of a village farmer who had a monster on his lands, and seemed to be only now returning. Hastily, she turned from the window and went to dress so she could greet him in the entrance hall. He seemed tired, but she wanted to know if there was anything she could do for him.

When Marianne finally made it downstairs, he was standing by the entrance, speaking exhaustedly to the leader of his few guards. His eye noticed her coming down the stairs, and he gave her a tired smile. Colin, the guard, followed his gaze, and gave his own smile, before patting Ashe on the shoulder and stepping outside.

“Are you alright?” she asked, as she approached. She could see that not only was he tired, he was holding himself as if he were injured. He nodded, though it wasn’t very convincing.

“Fit as a fiddle. Good morning, Marianne,” he said in return, running a hand through his hair. It was getting a bit long again. “The monster gave us a bit of a chase, but we were able to get rid of it without too much damage to the fields. Bet you would’ve gotten it done faster than me, though,” he added, the tiny, harmless joke playing with his lips. She blushed somewhat, suddenly keenly aware of Blutgang stored upstairs, pulsating slightly in time with her Crest. 

“I’m sure you didn’t need my help at all,” she murmured, falling into an old habit before she could stop herself. He shook his head at that.

“I always need your help, Marianne,” he said as earnestly as ever. He chewed on his lip for a second, something she may not have noticed if she wasn’t so distracted by them lately. “And I actually do have an injury…” Ashe admitted quietly, before meeting her gaze. “Would you be able to take a look at it for me?”

She nodded slowly, all thoughts of her countless errands suddenly out the window. He gestured to a small sitting room, and she followed, closing the door behind them. He paused for a second, lowering his eyes and frowning. “I got hit pretty hard on my side, a tail knocked me right off the horse.”  
“Ashe,” she reprimanded gently. “You should have said that from the beginning. Are you in much pain?”

He waved a hand good-naturedly. Even though he was a former street urchin, politeness always seemed to come first with him. “A little, but I knew I could have you see to it soon enough. Nothing to worry about.”

She gestured for him to remove his armor, and tried to not pay too much attention to the movements of his muscle under the fabric. Ashe was lean, but she knew he was quite strong from wielding a bow, and she had become slightly distracted more than once watching him train. Once he removed his shirt, however, it was a straining effort to look away. Especially once she caught notice of a very large bruise stretching across his side and lower back. Her loud gasp had him turning with a wince to look at her face. “It’s alright, Marianne. You’ve literally fished a spear head out of me before!”

He was right, of course. She had healed him of countless dangerous injuries. No need to be so upset over a simple bruise.

She approached, and very gingerly touched his side, receiving a hiss of pain in response. She continued her assessment, prodding along as gently as she could, simultaneously reveling in the soft feel of his skin while also trying not to hurt him. “You’ve broken a rib,” she murmured, white magic flaring at her fingertips. She trailed the magic across the bruising, before spending extra time on his rib. Ashe sighed at the soft pulsing relief of her white magic.

Her fingers trembled as she considered the potential damage he could’ve received. It was silly of her to dwell on, Ashe had survived a war after all, but she was struck by the idea of losing him. Perhaps it was the tumultuous emotions that she had woken up with, but she was very suddenly preoccupied by this man’s mortality. A tiny part of her thought it was somewhat ironic, as she had spent years considering her own and making peace with her own death.

Ashe looked at her over his shoulder, watching intensely as she funneled more of her magic into his injury. “Marianne,” he said gently, bringing her back to reality. “Are you alright?”

Noticing that his bruise was now quite faded at this point, she stepped back somewhat, and nodded. “It will feel a bit tender until it’s fully healed, but you know that. Be careful with the rib.”

He nodded, but didn’t move to put his shirt on right away. Instead, he continued to examine her face, concern etched on his features in a way that made her heart ache. She didn’t deserve to have such concern…

And there she was, slipping into old habits again so easily.

“You can talk to me, if you need to,” he said, always so considerate, always so gentle. “You know, I’ve come to trust you a great deal, and I hope that you can say the same of me, at this point.”

Marianne wrapped her arms around herself, and nodded. Yes, she trusted Ashe with her life, and had for years at this point. “I had a bad dream this morning,” she admitted finally, after a few moments of silence. Even she could hear the echoes of despair in her own voice. He stepped closer, brows furrowed in worry. “It was about the death of my parents…”

“Oh, Marianne,” he murmured, voice rife with his own grief and understanding. If there was anyone who could somewhat empathize with her situation in this regard, it was him. 

“When I saw your back,” she continued hesitantly, tears gathering in her eyes for the second time that morning. “It reminded me that the beast could have killed you.”

Ashe’s hand cupped her cheek very tentatively, and slowly, so slowly, his thumb wiped a tear away. “I’m so sorry to have reminded you of that,” he whispered. Marianne looked into his face, so much closer than normal, and realized that she wanted nothing more than for him to wrap her in his arms and comfort her. His other hand on her shoulder twitched somewhat, as if he was considering the same thing.

A tiny sob escaped her as the tears continued to fall, and she shook her head. “There was no way you could’ve known,” she insisted to him. “It was silly of me to even compare-”

He did pull her into an embrace then, and she could barely hold herself back from instantly clinging tightly to him. He was bruised, she reminded herself, allowing herself one arm to return the comforting embrace. And comforting it was, her face on the warm skin of his chest, his strong arms holding her close. “It’s not silly,” Ashe assured. “I understand. Sometimes, I dream about it, too. And not just my parents, but Christophe and Lonato. The war. Losing everyone here, even you.”

She looked up into his eyes at this, shocked, though she shouldn’t be. The Marianne who had reveled in their secret gazes and the moments where they’d accidentally touch was being held captive by the Marianne of her past, the one who could not conceive of anyone having any affection for her, the one who was convinced it was dangerous to even do so. He tenderly caressed her face again, hesitation on his face. “Marianne, I-”

A knock at the sitting room door broke through, and the pair parted near instantly. Marianne was bereft at the lack of touch, though the hideous resurgence was thankful for it. A voice followed the knock. “Ashe? Are you alright? Colin said he thought you might’ve hurt yourself?”

It was Ashe’s younger brother, Flint. Ashe huffed a bit of a laugh, though she could tell he was still a bit nervous, and reached for his shirt. “Yes, Flint, thank you. Marianne was healing my side, but we’re done now. I’m just picking up all my armor now.”

The door flung open to reveal both Flint and Briar, both sporting relieved faces. They very much adored their older brother. Marianne knew that Briar had personally put off attending Garreg Mach until next year, just to have more time with him. His siblings were likely as preoccupied with his mortality as much as she was, she realized. He was their provider, and they did not enjoy his absences very much at all. Waiting at home for him during the war was likely it’s own kind of pain.

“You didn’t mention your shirt was off,” Briar teased, and Ashe flushed somewhat as he finished putting it on.

“The injury was on his back and side,” Marianne explained, trying not to let her nervousness show. The position they were almost caught in would’ve caused quite a bit more teasing. “He broke a rib, too, so don’t let him work too hard.”

“How’d you manage that?” Flint asked. The boy looked nearly exactly like Ashe, but he was a great deal more exuberant. 

“The tail of a demonic beast knocked me off the horse,” Ashe supplied, handing the younger boy bits of his armor to help him carry. “I should’ve taken Dorte, don’t you think?”

“Of course you should’ve!” Briar exclaimed. “He doesn’t spook at anything! Marianne trained him well.”

Marianne flushed. Ashe’s siblings seemed to take a shine to her early on, but they also seemed to be enamored with her horse. She could not blame them. He was a wonderful horse.

Ashe nodded, his exhaustion showing in earnest now. “Alright, I am going to bed. Don’t give Marianne any trouble, you two.”

“Of course not, we’re gonna help her get the festival ready!” Flint nearly shouted. Ashe chuckled, probably mentally comparing his brother to his friend Caspar. He patted the heads of both of his siblings, before leaving to go to bed. Matching sets of pear green eyes turned to her expectantly, and Marianne quickly put herself back into business mode trying to remember what she wanted to accomplish for the day.

“Let’s start with a trip to the market,” she suggested, composing a list in her head. She had a lot of work to do.

A couple days passed, and it was now time for the festival. Marianne hoped that the people of Gaspard would enjoy her arrangements, the decor of the Leicester Alliance seemed somewhat garish to the solemn people of Faerghus at times, but Ashe had assured her that everything she picked out was quite tasteful. The village’s main square was a veritable sea of flowers, and there were ribbons of blue and white and a seafoam green bedecking every support structure. 

The day began early for Marianne, as Briar dragged her out of bed and made her dress for the day. She wore a white dress of a loose flowy fabric, made by a local seamstress. The round neckline was by no means lurid, though it was a bit lower than Marianne was used to, and the empire waist was sure to emphasize her bosom. Briar had very much guided the seamstress’ instructions in making the dress, however, and though Marianne felt unusual wearing such a thing that was really quite tame by Hilda’s standards, she still felt beautiful. There were blue flowers embroidered on it, giving it a pop of color, and complementing her hair.

Ah, yes, her hair.

Briar had insisted on styling it herself. Marianne found herself with half of her long hair hanging down in soft waves, the other half braided back with flowers weaved in them. When Briar turned away to grab pots of make-up, Marianne simply stared at herself in the mirror, transfixed. She looked like…

She did not allow herself to finish the thought, simply sitting quietly as Briar applied light make-up to her face. Taking in the full effect of her holiday attire, Marianne was stunned. She hardly looked like herself. And yet, she looked lovely, she thought.

Briar seemed to think so too. “Just wait until he sees you,” she quipped, appraising her work with pride.

Marianne blushed slightly, the make-up deepening the pinkness of her cheeks. She had a feeling she knew exactly who Briar was speaking of, but there was a part of her hoping to see if he would react too.

She wasn’t disappointed. As the household gathered to leave to attend church, she saw his eyes widen. “Wow, Marianne,” Ashe had said. “You look amazing.”

She thanked him and gave a tiny smile, one that seemed to linger on her face for the entire church service. The villagers saw her standing at their lord’s side, and smiled at her, gave her appreciative nods, or, in the case of girls Briar’s age, giggled in their direction.

Directing the festival was not as stressful as she thought it would be, and there were many in the village who were happy to pitch in and help. The ladies of the village, in particular, were eager to help her, and many were not shy about gossiping about her in her presence. She didn’t realize she was the object of such fascination for the people of the town.

“I heard she fought in the war,” one farmer’s wife stated, helping her place tablecloths on tables.

“I heard she’s from the Leicester Alliance,” a fruit vendor said, holding a basket of her wares.

“I heard she’s Margrave Edmund’s daughter,” her sister supplied, holding an equally full basket of fruits.

“I heard Lord Ashe wants to marry her,” a young village girl said, carrying flowers with her mother.

“It’s true, he’s quite smitten,” her mother said with a laugh, placing floral arrangements on tables.

“I worked extra hard on her dress to stop him dead in his tracks,” the village seamstress said authoritatively. “I’m pretty sure it worked too.”

“There are bets on when he’ll finally ask the question,” the town gossip said to the group. “Even the young Lord’s guard Colin is in on it.”

Marianne chuckled quietly, and tried not to draw too much attention to herself as she set up the square for the celebrations. These were very different from the rumors she grew up hearing about herself. The ones that promised danger and pain.

The thought soured her mood again somewhat, but she aimed to keep a pleasant demeanor. She did not want to ruin the festival for any of the town’s folk, or for Ashe and his brother and sister. The Goddess knew these people deserved to have a relaxing celebration. Especially since the weather was so fine.

Summer in Faerghus was not what Marianne was expecting. Certainly the winter was as cold and as gruesome as what she had heard, but the summer was fairly agreeable in her opinion. It was not too hot, just pleasantly warm. Ashe had explained to her that the Blue Sea Moon and the Verdant Rain Moon had the hottest days in Faerghus, though they were never particularly hot in comparison to what one might experience in Leicester or Adrestia, especially the farther north one got. Fhirdiad was warm for a few weeks of the year, and in places like Gautier it never truly thawed much. She supposed she was lucky, Gaspard was relatively central within Fodlan, and was able to enjoy a mild summer season, even if it was shorter than what she was used to.

Once the crowds started to gather in the square, Marianne found herself swept up in the celebrations. She found herself with more and more flowers woven into her hair by the girls of the village, some starting new braids to weave into her hair all together. A few brave boys asked her to dance, and she found herself agreeing to swirl around with them, enjoying the music of the fiddle and the swish of her skirts. She laughed more than she possibly had in years, talking to the townsfolk and trying traditional sweets offered to her. Ashe soon appeared at her side.

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he said with a wide smile and some cups in his hand. “I saw you dancing with young Harry. You’d better be careful, there’s going to be a line of youngsters fighting for a turn.”

She blushed slightly, and took the cup he offered. Her eyes widened as she tasted a sweet and slightly tart blend of berry juice. She quite liked it, finding the taste clinging to her lips. “Be careful,” he warned with a laugh. “There is definitely an alcoholic variety floating around and it is quite strong.”

“It seems like every drink is strong here,” Marianne noted, smiling slightly and looking around to the edges of the festivities, where stool pigeons were already having a grand old time.

“Welcome to Faerghus!” Ashe merely said, offering her an arm, which she took. He led her through the festival, stopping to admire the wares of the town vendors, talking to the children, and finally ending up at the large buffet the castle had supplied. Marianne blushed at the smiles and winks of all the gossipy ladies, no doubt thrilled to see her on Ashe’s arm.

They sat down together, eating dinner in quiet but happy spirits, watching the sun set on a lively crowd. Flint and Briar were making their way through everything with fervor, definitely seeming to enjoy themselves. Briar had a boy or two angling to dance with her, and Flint seemed determined to win a prize at every single game booth. Ashe smiled at the sight of his siblings able to run amok.

“I’m happy they can have the opportunity to have fun like this. They’ve had hard lives to deal with,” he said to her, eyes following his siblings and their paths of merriment.

“It’s because you looked after them so well,” she spoke, looking to him. “Without you, they might not have even survived.”

He seemed uncomfortable at the thought. “Really, it is Lonato who deserves the credit. He is the one who took us in and put us in such privileged positions when he didn’t have to. He saw a young thief and took him in rather than having him punished for his crimes.”

“Even before that, you were only a thief in order to look after them,” Marianne pointed out. “You kept them alive, Ashe. I wouldn’t have been as strong in a situation like that.”

Ashe looked to her in alarm. “You are plenty strong, Marianne. You’ve proven it countless times. There is no need to doubt that.”

“For years,” she said, quietly, so quietly. “All I wanted after the death of my parents was to be in the embrace of the Goddess. I don’t find that to be strong.”

“You mean…”

“That I wished I was dead. I prayed for it everyday. Even at Garreg Mach, I prayed the Goddess would let me find peace,” Marianne explained, her voice tiny and hesitant. It was really bizarre to admit something so sad in the middle of a festival of all places. “I haven’t told many people that.”

He grabbed her hand in his own, his eyes swimming with grief. “But it’s different now?” His question was both hopeful and desperate. 

She managed to smile sadly. “Yes. Being able to have comradery at the Academy, to form bonds with people. It made me want to live. I realized it wasn’t dangerous to be close with people. And I was able to find a dream to work for.”

“Dangerous?” 

“Yes, because of my…” Marianne paused, feeling like she was being watched. She peered away from Ashe to see a bunch of village women excitedly watching them talk, and remembered that he held her hand in his own. His eyes followed hers, and the two quickly released each other’s hands with an embarrassed blush.

“My Lord,” the seamstress said, stepping forward. “Don’t you think Milady looks quite handsome in her dress?”

Ashe chuckled nervously. “She looks lovely all the time, but yes, the dress suits her exceedingly well.”

The gossipy women tittered excitedly, and Marianne’s heart did a flip at that.

“Aren’t you going to ask her to dance?” another lady asked, gesturing to the dancing area. Whereas earlier there were folks of all ages dancing along to merry tunes, it now mostly seemed to be couples. Ashe nodded, looking a tad nervous.

“Of course,” he said, standing and offering Marianne his hand. “Marianne, would you like to dance?”

She nodded quickly, and he led her away from the women and towards the dancers. “We’ll finish our conversation later,” he whispered, before setting hand on her waist and holding her hand with his other.

At first, they danced an exultant folk dance that Marianne was unfamiliar with. Ashe led her through it, and she found herself swinging around wildly, her hair and dress trailing behind her like a flag. Flower petals would occasionally fall from her hair, creating a magical effect for her as they spun.

The next dance had them dancing closer and closer together before having them spin away and come back together suddenly. She found herself sweating, her heart pounding in time with the clapping of the crowd. Marianne did not want to stop, however, she was caught up in the swell of the music and Ashe’s face, full of mirth and focus on her every movement. She had never felt seen in this way before.

They took a break to get some refreshment, and she was pretty sure it was now the alcoholic version of the wonderfully tart berry drink that was flowing, as the sun had long since gone down. She found that she didn’t really mind so much, and did not protest when she was whisked back to the dance floor again by Ashe. He had taken off his jacket, and now just wore his linen shirt rolled up to his elbows. Perhaps it was the drink, but Marianne found this to be a magnificent look on him.

Dance after dance flew by, and she laughed and sang and sweat. She felt the music within her, and only Ashe’s touch could steady her. She had never felt like this before. She never felt this open or free.

Finally, when the pair found themselves panting in exhaustion, they sat down again. Marianne was so tired but so filled with joy that she had forgotten about their serious conversation from earlier. Only the look in his eyes reminded her, and she could tell he was hesitating to bring it up. She braced herself for impact when he opened his mouth.

“Would you like to walk back to the castle?” was all he said, surprising her, but she nodded. No doubt he’d rather not have an audience this time.

He remained quiet as they walked in the moonlight, and Marianne found herself coming back down to earth somewhat. She did enjoy how the stars twinkled, and found her gaze fixed on the sky. She was ready when he finally spoke again.

“When you said that having people close to you was dangerous, were you talking about your Crest?” Ashe asked finally, carefully. He’d known for a long time now that Marianne did not appreciate people asking about her Crest. However, he was also present during the battle in which she had finally confronted Maurice, and probably had picked up on a little bit of why she had feared it so much.

“Yes,” she replied, considering how much of the gaping wound on her soul she should reveal to him. “It is a lost Crest, that of a secret 11th Elite. The Crest of Maurice, but known better as the Crest of the Beast.”  
“That was the beast that we confronted during the war,” he remembered. “Maurice.”

She nodded. “He had wandered for so long as a beast, that there were rumors of all bearers of that Crest becoming beasts. Some people even looked at us as shape-shifters. My parents were minor nobles but the people still feared them, especially my father who had the Crest. He was...troubled too. I don’t know if it was because of the people fearing us and occasionally trying to attack us, but towards the end of his life he was acting strange.”

“Strange how?” Ashe asked, his face drawn in rapt attention, hanging on to every word.

“My father was a minor noble, but my mother was so low-ranking she was barely a step above a commoner. My father was so in love with her though, and he loved to tell the story of how they met at a ball and danced the entire night,” she said, heart starting to break. She had never told anyone this story before. “My adoptive father is actually a relation of my father’s, and he said that while he had personally advised against the match, he could not deny that they were very much in love with each other.”

“They married, and had me,” she continued. “And they were very happy at first. In the story of how they met, my father would insist that they must have loved each other in a past life, with how instantly they connected. My mother always thought it was very romantic, until towards the end. A monk had tried to attack me in a marketplace, and my father reacted very poorly to it.”

“How so?” he asked, his voice edged with fear.

“He killed the man,” she admitted, tearing up slightly. “And that’s when the villagers began to turn against us. At first, they didn’t trust us, but after, they were openly violent. We stayed inside our manor, almost never leaving.”

“That’s not fair, he attacked an innocent child! Your father was simply defending you!”

“Apparently what scared people was the look on my father’s face. And when we stayed inside, he started to act differently. He started to have terrible nightmares, and would wake up hysterically crying to my mother that he was sorry for killing her and that he was sorry for giving in to the power,” Marianne wept openly at this point, having never shared this much with another person before. “She was so confused. I would listen at their door and hear him describe her body being made entirely of fire, and about a creature named Duma that was haunting him for mistakes in his past life. How his Crest was merely divine reminder and that he would have to live through losing her twice as punishment.”

“Do you suppose any of that is true?” Ashe was fully absorbed in this story, and even though they were now at the edge of the castle grounds, he led to to continue walking in the direction of the stables.

“I don’t know what to think,” Marianne admitted. “I know my father wasn’t crazy, but something was wrong. For a long time, I thought it was his Crest beginning the process of turning him into a beast, and that I would meet the same fate.”

Ashe’s voice was laced with trepidation when he finally asked, “What was his fate?”

“My mother was so worried about him. She would pray night and day for his relief. Finally, one day, after another terrible nightmare, she had one too. Of her soul being consumed and her body becoming made of fire. Just like in my father’s nightmare,” she said, trembling now as she neared the conclusion of her story. The part she had always tried her hardest not to think about, not to remember. “And so she went to find a priest to help them, because praying wasn’t enough. She explained what was happening and that they needed the Goddess. And the priest followed her home...and tried to kill my father. He said that it was Crest turning him into a beast, and that he needed to be put down. And my father fought back, savagely, trying to protect us.”

She sobbed, nearly unable to continue. Ashe’s hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Marianne, if you can’t tell me anymore, it’s ok, you don’t have to relive this.”

She shook her head wildly. “I have to! I have to!” Suddenly, her mind had decided that if she were to live on she needed to confront this right here and now. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to have the weight lifted off of her shoulders, she wanted someone else to know. “The priest attacked with fire magic, and it hit my mother, killing her… And my..my father, he killed the priest, and fell to his knees and wept and wept that he would never be forgiven. And then the mobs came, and he helped me escape, told me to run far away to Edmund and to never come back.”

“He survived?!”

“No! No, he didn’t, he turned back to fight the mob while the house burned around him. In the end I’m not sure if it was the mob, or the fire killed him, but my adoptive father went to investigate, and confirmed that he had died.”

Ashe pulled her into an embrace, holding her close as she sobbed and sobbed. “This was what you had the nightmare about the other day.”

Marianne nodded, unable to say anymore, to think anymore. “This is why you thought it was dangerous to be around people, because you thought you were the danger,” he continued. His voice was rough with the sound of tears as well. “That you shouldn’t be loved.”

“I didn’t think I deserved it,” she whimpered. “Because I thought I was poised to become a beast.”

He cupped her cheek, pulling her face up to look into his. His eyes were full of unshed tears. “Marianne, you know that you’re not a beast, right? That you deserve love?”

“I do,” she nodded, an ache in her twinging all the same. “Sometimes I have to remind myself, though.”

“Because I am so in love with you, that I cannot bear the thought of you thinking that you don’t deserve it,” he said, now crying openly.

Her mind froze. She knew, she knew, she knew. It had always felt like just a matter of time, with the way they shyly flitted around each other. Neither brave enough to breach the boundary of the carefully curated comfort they shared with each other. But to hear him say it? Confirm what she had always suspected deep down? To know in her heart for certain that a person could genuinely know all of her terrible secrets and still love her? It broke her.

The tears flew even stronger now, and Ashe panicked. “Marianne, I...listen, that was forward, I just-”

“I love you too,” she attempted to say, though she hiccuped and sniffed, and definitely had long since ruined the carefully applied make-up from this morning. She held his face in her hands, still secure in his arms, and tried to imprint this moment in her memory forever. 

She had revealed herself and was still loved.

And then he kissed her. And she was forever changed by this, the feeling of his lips on her own, finally, trying to express every bit of love he could, chastely, safely.

And when he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, she reached for him again, wanting his comfort again. She kissed him, the first selfish thing she had done for herself since coming here. She was unwilling to let go, having bared so much of herself, and gaining what she had finally wanted for far longer than she could admit to herself. There was no way she was letting go anytime soon. She kissed passionately, opening herself up to allow their tongues to intermingle and explore.

That seemed to be fine by him. She wasn’t sure what made her so desperate for his touch, the intense combination of sorrow and euphoria, the drinks, the trust, the love she had never known. All she knew was that this was like a powerful explosion within her. An awakening. A deep, unanswered longing. He began to pull away, and she chased him, trying to pull him back with soft kisses.

“Ma..Marianne,” he gasped, seemingly as overcome as she. “We should...we should stop.” He panted, and his flushed face was evident in the moonlight.

Her heart sank. Did she come on too strong? Was he put off by her? The questions must’ve shown on her face, because he shook his head. “I know we just had an intense discussion, and I wouldn’t want to get swept up in something without regard for you.” He pulled her close to emphasize his point, and she realized she could feel his desire.

The epitome of chivalry.

She shivered, even though she was warm in his arms. The highs and lows of the evening made her feel different. She wasn’t so sure she would ever feel so forward again in her life. She had something in her arms now, and she wanted to be selfish, she wanted to want. Even if only once in her life, even if she was demure Marianne again in the morning. Marianne was uncomfortable with this uninhibited frenzy she found herself in, but was too desperate to care. “Take me inside, please,” she requested, unsure if she deliberately made an innuendo or not.

She didn’t have to ask him twice, as he scooped her up and carried her inside the castle, up the stairs, down the hall and to her bedroom, setting her down right at the entrance. This was her last chance, she reasoned, her opportunity to put everything on pause and process the veritable whiplash of emotions she had found herself experiencing today. It was the wise thing to do, even. But she was tired of dwelling on things, tired of inaction. She opened the door, and extended her hand to him, giving him a chance to make the same choice she had.

He stared at her hand, and then took it, following her inside. He had never been in her room before, his eyes surveying the surroundings before landing on her, waiting there with hope in her face. She could see in her mirror that her make-up was ruined, her hair was a mess with flowers tangled in it, and her dress was wrinkled, but she still felt as beautiful as she had that morning with the way he looked at her now.

Tentatively, Ashe placed his hands on her waist, and brought her close. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips skimming the side of her neck. “I love you,” he murmured again, and she shivered, her hands pulling him closer to her. His hands explored her sides, coasting past her breast to caress down her back.

She met his lips when they made their way back to her face, and she kissed him ardently, as the slow tension ate her alive. Feeling bold, she began to unbutton his shirt, slipping her hands inside to feel his skin and muscles. He pulled it off of his torso, before quickly returning to his expedition of mapping her curves. When he worked up the nerve to start undoing the buttons on the back of her dress, she trembled with anticipation. She had never been exposed like this in front of a man. 

The dress slid off of her, with a little help from her with the sleeves, and she blushed deeply at the stunned look on his face as he took her in. She moved to cover her bare breasts a little, uncomfortable with being ogled, but he stepped forward, scooped her up again and laid her on her bed to help her feel more comfortable. With their chests touching, she relaxed, the skin warm, and the feel of it soothing. Ashe’s hands explored her sides, cupping one of her full breasts hesitantly. He caressed her nipple, admiring the swift change as it hardened under his touch. Slowly, he brought his mouth down to give it a lick, causing her to gasp. His wide eyes watched as he encircled his mouth around the bud, giving a small suck. The shaky breath she let out seemed to encourage him to do it again, as one of his hands found her other breast.

His attention had found a warmth blossoming in her belly, and she could tell he was equally excited, based on the hardness she found straining the fabric of his pants. He switched his mouth to the other breast, a hand sliding down her torso lower and lower, playing with the edge of her smallclothes.

He gave a soft caress down her core over the fabric, and Marianne jolted, unused to the sensation. He leaned forward to kiss her again, giving another soft touch to set her off. He continued to rub for a moment or so, and she panted between kisses, simultaneously eager for further stimulation and afraid of it. When he gently began to pull down her smallclothes, she hid her face in her hands, not wanting to see his open admiration of such a private area.

However, Marianne realized she made a mistake in doing that, precisely when she felt his mouth giving her a soft kiss on her center, followed by a languid lick. As it trailed higher, she actually heard herself begin to let out a sound like a cross between surprise and a sigh. He laved again at that spot, and the stimulation of it was quite intense for her. Her thighs quivered under his hands, and he pulled her legs over his shoulders.

His ministrations continued, and she felt herself worked higher and higher to something she was unfamiliar with, but shocked her in its intense build up. She felt her hips shifting slightly to guide him, and suddenly she felt a finger sliding slowly into her. She let out a surprised “Oh!” The stretching pressure of her muscles enveloping his finger was unusual, but she soon found the sliding motion to be nice, especially when she adjusted to a second finger sliding in as well.

Suddenly, she became a little frantic under his attention, and she clenched around him as she reached her peak. She sighed, and panted, and Ashe smiled as he rose over her and gave her a sweet kiss. Marianne realized she could taste herself, and they giggled a bit when they realized.

Ashe hesitated over her. She knew what he wanted, and she knew why he had paused too. There really wasn’t any way to move on from this, she already knew, but this seemed a bit permanent to her. Marianne touched him through his pants, giving an experimental squeeze. A funny little noise caught in the back of his throat, and he went to remove his pants.

Finally seeing him made her throat go dry a little. It was very different than what she was used to, and she was more than a little nervous to find out if all that could really fit inside her? She heard Hilda’s voice in her head assuring her that it would in one of those silly talks she’s attempted to give Marianne full of unsolicited sex advice. She was sure Ashe had probably been on the receiving end of a similar talk via Sylvain.

“Marianne, if you want to stop-” he began, but she held up a hand. 

“I love you,” she said, simply, tiredly. “I want to share this with you.”

He nodded, sliding himself against her once or twice, causing her to moan softly with overstimulation. Finally, he began to enter her, going slowly, pausing anytime she seemed to wince. When she gave the go ahead, he continued, making slow progress until he finally got himself in with a groan.

Marianne blinked at the fullness of this sensation. She could tell she was a little tight, as her walls clung to him, and he seemed quite dazed at the feeling of being enveloped. After a moment to allow her to get used to it, he slid out and back in, and they collectively moaned in appreciation at the feeling.

He continued to move in and out, slowly, but picking up speed as they became used to their joining. She clung to him, urging him deeper, meeting his thrusts with her hips as she found their rhythm. Ashe started to lose himself a little, entering harder and faster, and somewhat erratically. She could tell he was close, when he thrust shallowly twice, before leaping over the edge. 

He became boneless in her arms, murmuring “I love you,” over and over, giving her light kisses anywhere he could reach. After a moment he pulled himself out gently, and blanched. “Marianne! I spilled inside! I-”

“I’ll get a tea in the morning,” she reassured, knowing exactly what to look for thanks to Hilda. Marianne didn’t really want to worry too much about it right now, she felt very warm and sated, and just wanted to wrap herself up in his arms and go to sleep. 

He threw the blankets over them, bringing her to his side for some cuddles. “I didn’t really expect that today.”

“Do you regret it?” she asked, heart sinking. There was a part of her that knew maybe things had progressed far too quickly, but for the moment, she was not disturbed by it.

“Of course not,” he responded absentmindedly, pulling flowers out of her hair. Quite a few had come loose from the evening’s activities, but the bedspread was covered in petals. She imagined it might’ve looked pretty romantic from Ashe’s viewpoint. “But now I have to write a letter to Margrave Edmund.”

“For what?” Her heart stumbled at this.  
“To properly ask for your hand in marriage of course,” Ashe assured, gazing at her with all the love he could muster despite his clear exhaustion.

“I think proper might’ve flown out the window,” she admitted meekly. They had kinda skipped a few steps. And it was her fault, really.

“Nobody has to know that part!”

“Well, we did disappear from the festival,” she pointed out, laying her face down on his chest. “They may assume.”

“Hopefully they’re so hungover they forget about us for a while,” he laughed. “They seemed pretty invested in getting us together.”

Marianne giggled. It was true, she was sure everyone would be delighted at the news. Provided her father agreed to bless their marriage, of course. Gazing through her bedroom window at the night sky, her eye caught the Blue Sea Star, symbol of the Goddess’ Light. Maybe after all this time, this was the peace she had prayed for, she wondered, as she contentedly drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So, um, this is rambly and long, and an unusual thing for me to write. I was just inspired I guess? I literally spent hours glued to my computer typing it.
> 
> I don't really perceive either Ashe or Marianne to be very sexual people, but I somewhat enjoyed trying to figure out how it might get to that point for them? I apologize if any of it came off as OOC I was just really fascinated in exploring these ideas, particularly for Marianne. The Crest of Maurice coincides with the tarot arcana of the Devil, which can be associated with lust, though I imagine in a bad way. I guess I was pushing myself to have her explore that in a proactive sense that she does something for herself.
> 
> And as for my weird Berkut and Rinea headcanons, well, I love that conspiracy theory, and there really has been some great fanart of it. I guess some people envision Marianne as being from Valentia, but rather I like to just fill in the gaps as follows: Berkut and Rinea are simply reincarnated within Fodlan and have a second chance at living their lives. Of course it goes poorly, but their beloved daughter survives. It's just fun headcanon, I don't think that is an intended interpretation lol. Thus, I kind of left their names out of this.


End file.
